The Girl in 221C
by HecticHate
Summary: A young woman by the name of storm moves in causing friction in the household. Lots of different things shall occur, reviews greatly appreciated as this is my first fanfic :D enjoy
1. A New Arrival

My first one finally going up! If you don't like it, give me suggestions to make it better!

I don't own Sherlock.

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Someone was moving into 221C Baker street. Well, not just anyone, a young girl by the name of Storm Cosmo. To Sherlock it was obvious she was using an alias but Ms. Hudson clearly hadn't noticed or was choosing not to see it. Either way Sherlock felt a great sense of unease around her. John had warned him earlier that day before going to the mortuary that Storm would be there when he got home, he had also warned him not to talk to her. Sherlock wasn't one for abiding by Johns silly rules but today after rapping up two cases he was feeling good and didn't want to spoil it by arguing with his friend. He put his key in the door and turned, letting himself in. The girl was shifting boxes from the entrance of 221C and taking them down to the room where Carl Powers shoes once sat waiting for him. Sherlock put his hands in his pockets and made a mental note to himself before climbing the stairs to their flat.

_SC

She was a pleasant lady to say the least. While her and the military man, John, had been moving her small dresser and flimsy single bed down into her room she had made them tea. Ms. Hudson was her name. Drinking their tea she perched on the dresser listening to John talk about his flatmate, Sherlock. The more he spoke the more interested she became about the man. When Storm finally managed to convince John she was quite capable of moving her remaining assets he left, much to her pleasure. But not without warning her first about Sherlock's blunt and rude tendencies. This suited her just fine, she only kept this façade to keep out of the attention of people around her. She could tell her stay was going to be more interesting than once expected.

John stood at the bottom of the stairs listening to the sound of Sherlock thinking before continuing toward the flat. Struggling through the doorway with an armload of shopping John sighed deeply as he caught a glimpse of Sherlock standing at the window composing.

"Tea? Sherlock?" He said not expecting a reply. After a few moments Sherlock put down his violin.

"Please."

John smiled. "I got food while I was out."

"Thank you for stating the obvious John." Sherlock replied with an eye roll. "How long did you say she was staying for?"

Frown lines touched Johns face. "A few weeks but like I said before, you're not to speak to her. I said no, just control yourself, for once." He added the last sentence when Sherlock looked like he was going to interrupt.

Sherlock strode around the room twice before he came to a decision. John was not going to like it either.

"Ms. Hudson! You and the girl are invited to dinner. Six thirty please." Sherlock turned to meet Johns glare from his chair.

"Are you sure Sherlock? Its six fifteen." She called back.

Frustrated he turned back to the doorway. "Well, seven thirty then!" And he slammed the door.

"Sherlock." John said in a stern voice and when he was met with silence he continued, "Sherlock, what the HELL are you doing? What did we not justdiscuss?"

"Bonding John, bonding. Gives the building a sense of… community. And there was no discussion." Before John could speak Sherlock announced: "You will need to go to the store, get one of those cooked chicken things," He waved his hand in distaste. "And the stuff you eat with it."

"But I've already done shopping!" John started and was cut off almost immediately.

"No John, you brought things that could be classified as snacks not a meal and that is what our guests will be expecting." Sherlock sat down as John sighed, giving into him once again and pulling on his coat.

"Twice, Sherlock. I've gone shopping twice now! Next time we need food, you can go get it." John dumped the bags on the table before thinking better of it. "You could have at least set the table while I was gone!"

"Mmhh." Sherlock put down the death section of the paper he was reading. "Shopping is dull."

After moving the groceries onto the bench John started unpacking and plating pre-made salads he brought along with a hot chicken. "How would you know? It's not like you've ever done it."

"Hold that thought John," Sherlock turned to the door. "Mycroft, nice to see you," Sarcasm dripped off the last words. "Now leave, no one wants to hear what you have to say." He rose and left for his bedroom.

"What a way to greet his brother huh?" Mycroft entered the flat.

"Um, so, what is it?" John asked awkwardly.

"Just came to check up on him." Mycroft was still looking at Sherlock's closed door. "You'll need to be here tonight John. Tonight's a night."

"What?" Johns expression changed as he understood what he was being told. "You think he'd do it? Tonight I mean?"

"Why else would I say anything? Watch him John." Mycroft's last comment was sickly serious, he left abruptly and John watched from the window as the older Holmes brother walked away from 221B Baker street.


	2. Dinner Guest

Oh the joys of writing about the incredible Sherlock Holmes! I sure am enjoying myself.

I still do not own Sherlock.

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"Sherlock!" John called from the kitchen. "Dinner is ready, will you please get Ms Hudson?"

Sherlock's door swung open dramatically. "Ms Hudson! Dinner!"

"I could have done that you know." John muttered angrily.

"Well you could have, but you didn't, so I did."

John started putting plates of food in the centre of the table as a self serve. Sherlock sat down and pushed his chair out slightly silently indicating to John he wouldn't be eating.

"You're not eating are you?"

"Brilliant deduction." Sherlock replied without making eye contact.

John was about to say something when Ms Hudson and Storm walked in.

"Oh, it looks fantastic dear." She smiled and rubbed Johns arm before taking a seat opposite him leaving Storm to occupy the seat beside herself facing Sherlock directly.

While they began chatting Sherlock gave Storm the once over. As he had expected, she was educated and smart in general, could get herself out of a lot of sticky situations. She was impulsive and had a manipulative personality that she smothered with charm, proving she was capable of keeping truths hidden well. But everything else kept changing, Sherlock could barely figure out if she was left or right handed. Her brown hair was cropped short and bordered her thin expressionless face. A plain black long sleeve and black jeans were her choice of clothes. The only real thing he picked up there was that she was perhaps thinking about robbing someone. After staring at her for almost an hour Storm turned to Sherlock and gave him indiscreet direct eye contact.

"Why? Mr Holmes?" She furrowed her brow for effect.

"Why what?"

"Don't patronize me."

"Because its astonishing."

"Isn't it just." She turned back to the conversation that had died. John was glancing between her and Sherlock.

"I'm sorry, wha-" John was cut off.

"Don't worry," Sherlock said. "I'm going to sit in the lounge."

Sherlock left the table and dinner soon finished.

"Well, thank you for your hospitality Dr Watson," Storm remarked standing up. "And do ensure Sherlock gets my regards when he returns."

John turned to Sherlock frowning. What was she thinking about? He was right here. Unless she understood how Sherlock could migrate to his mind palace. They seemed to have made a silent relationship over the past hour or so.

"Yes, ah, have a good night." He said dismissing them as they exited the flat.

_SC

Storm lay on the old, well worn carpet in 221C's bedroom. Boredom would find her soon. Dreading this she piled her belongings into the centre of the room and began tearing at the wallpaper. She would redecorate in the next few day. At least she would have some form of entertainment if no work came up. Work. Her 'job/s' were shockingly dull, even when she had to get into high security places. She always wanted something more challenging. She had a feeling tonight could prove to be interesting, Sherlock had looked at her and she could see the questions he wanted answers for. He would have to work for it.

_Work really hard... _She thought to herself as she pulled on her hoodie.


	3. The chase

Things are getting interesting..

I really wish i owned Sherlock. But i don't.

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Sherlock sat up abruptly in his chair and glanced at John reading his book sitting opposite from him. He moved to the kitchen to make tea.

"Sherlock?" John lowered his book, confusion had settled across his face. "What happened at dinner?"

"What do you mean?" He said innocently while pouring tea.

"You know exactly what I mean, I'm referring to Storm." John put his book down and turned to Sherlock still standing in the kitchen. When the man didn't reply he continued. "What was astonishing?"

John realised he wasn't going to answer his questions so he returned to his book. Sherlock walked back into the lounge and placed a cup of tea beside John before sitting himself down and pulling out his violin.

"Thanks. Not having one huh?" John said raising his tea to his lips and blowing on it gently. Sherlock just looked at him and began playing soothing melodies.

When John had finished his tea and started dosing in his chair Sherlock rose and went to Johns room finding his gun in the top draw. Storm had left half an hour ago he assumed and left for the local pub, The red horse.

_SC

Storm hadn't been waiting long before she saw Sherlock emerge from an alley. She finished her drink and slipped out the back as he got closer to the door.

Sherlock had seen her down he glass and exit, he just had to wait for the right moment to follow her. Walking past the bar he glided down the next alleyway to wait. Sure enough she had played him as he suspected would happen and she walked past glancing back every few seconds. Paranoid. What was she up to? Sherlock had to know so he kept a street behind her as he followed her half way across town. Unfortunately as he was walking down yet another alley he miss calculated the timing, or so he thought until Storm turned to where he stood 20 or so feet away and burst into a sprint towards him. For a moment he stood amused before running in a different direction to her. He reached a dead end and with the assistance of a crate leaning against the wall he scaled the 6 foot wall and ran along the roof top. Storm was hot in pursuit making it up before Sherlock had jumped onto the neighbouring roof. Sherlock stopped dead in his tracks as her knife touched his throat.

"You faster than I first expected."

"You're not bad yourself." She whispered into his ear before retracting her knife and putting it back in the sleave to her right forearm.

"I thought you'd be carrying something heavier." He said dismissively.

"Naturally," She pulled a handgun from her belt, hidden by her choice of clothing. "And I assume you have Dr Watson's."

"Naturally." He reached into his coat to produce the weapon.

"Why were you following me."

"Something to do." He shrugged.

"Bored huh? Or are you just trying to figure out who I am?"

"Why the pub? Where were you going?" Sherlock retorted.

"Hmm. Not so smart then. That was for you. I knew you wouldn't be able to help yourself. I knew you would follow me, it was obvious you have questions." She sighed and turned away. "Unfortunately for you Mr Holmes I am not compelled to tell you."

Sherlock lurched forward to grab her but she had already side stepped his move and he landed hard on his knees.

"Tut tut Mr Holmes. You'll have to be faster than that."

Having said that she dropped off the building. Sherlock rose and walked to the edge feeling the pain in his knees and watched as she walked down the street away from him.

The journey home had been long and arduous but at last he stood outside their flats. John was going to be pissed when he woke up, something Sherlock was not looking forward to.


	4. Torment

A/N: So my chapters arn't that huge or that great but hey, if you're still reading it, thank you.

I feel like i don't own anything anymore, including Sherlock.

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Johns eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light in the living room. Sherlock. Where was Sherlock? Johns moment of panic saw him leap out of his chair and into the man in question himself.

"Do sit down John, you're not fully awake yet."

Sherlock's hands were firm on his shoulders as he lowered him back down into his chair. Johns head spun violently and he slumped forward closing his eyes. Once John got control over his pounding head, blurred vision and need to vomit he turned to Sherlock.

"Why…? Why do I," He shook his head and gulped. "What time is it?" He said looking at his watch but not being able to see it clearly enough.

"7:51. Be quite, I'm thinking."

Sherlock was pacing the length of the living room dramatically. The new neighbour really was a puzzle, one he was having difficulty deciphering. John was slow to respond but eventually he began to see through his drugged haze.

"Why-What did you do?" His voice accused.

"Urgh, I didn't do anything." He sat down. "Well, not to the girl, you on the other hand you should go to bed."

"What?" Johns brow furrowed. "Why?"

He rose and instantly regretted it as his chest hit the ground.

"What the hell!" John yelled bewildered.

"Yes, I mustn't forget to mention I put sleeping pills in your tea."

John rubbed his face. "You drugged me?"

"You make it sound so bad. I just needed you to leave me alone for the night."

His face turned into a look of concern. "You didn't ah"

Sherlock cut him off. "No. Mycroft is wrong, hes always wrong."

Sherlock turned to face the wall ultimately ending the conversation. In all his distress John couldn't deal with Sherlock on the subject of the sleeping pills so he left to his room.

_SC

She was loving this game. Loving seeing him trying to understand. While she continued with her day, the fact he was having difficulty comprehending what had happened and why was... comforting.

* * *

The sickly chemical smell of paint lingered up the stairs into 221b and Sherlock was becoming more and more agitated by the minute. It hadn't been long since his last case but he NEEDED one. He couldn't think straight. Molly. He would have to go see Molly. She had text back the results on the post-mortem last night. He didn't really have to go but he could find something to do while he was there. At least he hoped.

"Molly." He regarded his friend as he walked into the lab.

"Oh," Her face became flushed. "I, ah didn't expect you. Uhm."

Molly began shuffling papers nervously trying to cover her joy of him being there. Sherlock new she liked him. A little more than just a friend, anyone who had been present at christmas knew. Not that it wasn't obvious to bystanders either. Sherlock steeped forward somewhat shyly now feeling like he was imposing.

"I grabbed some crisps on my way up." He leaned on the corner of the table and handed her a bag.

Molly couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. " I'll make us a coffee, we can eat in the staff lounge..?" She suggested.

"Sounds perfect."


End file.
